Under a Casting Sun
by DontCrossTheFox
Summary: Life is hard in general. Life is even harder when one lives a solitary life. But our struggles and failures define us, but those that remain are scarred, and those many scars run deep. Under a Casting Sun The life of one man in his fight to survive.


**Hey guys, I have a new story for you!**

**I know you guys may be thinking that it is stupid of me to start another story when I already have so many started, but I needed to do this!**

**This is, in a sense, a remake of my earlier story "Wastes". I was reading it and decided to remake it, but with a new, cool twist.**

**So here we are! Read and Review!**

**I do not own Sonic or any other SEGA stuff.**

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The dull throbbing in my arm had become a part of me. Despite being a new part of my complex anatomy, the ache in the tissue around my wrist seemed like a old friend to my tired and fevered mind. It's funny how quickly a person can adapt to a situation. Almost instantaneously a new variable or factor can be adopted by the host, and almost forgotten. I had, at one time, pictured this adaptation as the greatest strength of a complex organism.

I had read on many philosophers who spoke of 'survival of the fittest' and 'the strong will survive' and I had to disagree with all of them. I had seen many strong and aspiring people crumple under pressure and the slightest amount of angst. This led me to believe that perhaps every person has two parts to them. The outward part, is what is seen by your peers. Be it, confident, irritating, or any other number of attributes. The second part however, is a part far less seen.

In one rather fascinating book I had read, there was a story of a short timid man. On his way back home from work he was attacked by four men who all stood a head taller than him. Contrary to obvious outcome, in which the man is mugged or worse, the victim was able to dispatch all of his attackers, with astonishing ferocity. The author who included the article in his novel talked of instincts and fight or flight.

I hypothesized that while being small and weak, both in raw strength and confidence on the surface, the man was powerful and brave in the dark corner of his mind that made up the second part of his personality, the much more vicious and animalistic part.

This led me to believe that the remaining survivors, and don't get me wrong there were many, had done so due to their second halves. That would be the only explanation in my mind to dictate why white collar accountants and hair dressers had adapted so well to the new world, while the physically imposing had died in the beginning.

As I leapt over a chain link fence, I groaned, as the resulting shock wave sent a new blossom of pain to my 'old friend'. I grabbed the aching arm, and nearly screamed as my sweaty hand came in contact with the wound. The pain was considerably more acute now, and another glance revealed the skin had both puffed up and swollen.

I reached into the faded brown back pack I had slung over my good arm. I was able to unzip it, but finding a piece of loth suitable for a sling, with only one hand, proved difficult. I resorted to ripping a large chunk off the end of my windbreaker, and tying it around my arm. I didn't know much about medicine, but I hoped the cloth was clean enough not to infect my wound. God knows what that could lead to.

With my arm wrapped up, I finally looked around at my surroundings. I silently cursed myself for having not done that sooner. I was in an open patio area, between four buildings, that to the untrained eye might look like a safe area, but to one as experienced as mine, a killing field. There was one entrance into the courtyard, and multiple entrances into the adjacent structures. I could have been attacked without even knowing, and killed within seconds.

I walked the perimeter of the courtyard, keeping my right shoulder to the concrete siding of the buildings. This eliminated one direction from were a threat might emerge. The courtyard itself was a magnificent sight. The once imposing statues and fountains were a homage to what this area used to be, but also acted as a metaphorical mirror into what life once was. Vines had gathered around the base of a statue of a man pointing into the distance, his hard rugged features seemingly speaking of his invincibility, his gesturing arm was layered in foliage. I pondered the idea that the sight in front of me was an example of what was to become, but continued walking.

I passed by a small preschool that was in a state of great disrepair. The stark contrast of the humble structure compared to the dominating and frightening sky scrapes around it almost made me laugh. I wondered if this was where rushed employees dropped their kids before rushing to their small cubical hundreds of floors above them.

I pushed aside the small wooden gate, and stepped into the over grown grass that framed the colorful building. The gate clanged behind me, and I instantly turned around, expecting some kind of threat, but upon seeing it was just the wind, continued walking. I quietly approached the play area, frowning as I saw the metal structures had rusted from rain and misuse.

The slight amount of wind rocked the swings back and forth, creating a eerie squeak. I placed my hand on the handle of the slide and recoiled as it came away wet. I quickly looked at my hand, and gasped as I saw it was smeared with blood. I wiped the filthy hand on my jacket and glanced around my surroundings. The blood was fresh, meaning what ever left it was still nearby.

The wind picked up and created a disturbing howling sound as it mixed with the rising squeak coming from the swings. I pulled out my knife, and tried to look all around me, not wanting something to come up behind me. Deciding to approach it a more aggressive way, I sprinted out of the school yard, my feet carrying me at a remarkable pace. I leapt over the banging fence and sprinted across the courtyard, aiming for the exit that lead me back out onto the main road.

I was able to make it around the bend but as I approached the final turn, I stopped in my tracks.

The setting sun in the west cast a long golden glow through the small side street I was on. The building to me right blocked all direct light, so I was in the growing darkness, but the entrance to the main road acted as a window into the sun light, lighting up part of the alley. But anything between this sunlight and the buildings to me left, left a imposing shadow.

What made me stop, was the dark unmistakable outline of a figure. It was hard to judge the shape of someone off of their shadow, but the silhouette he casted onto the building wall was large and imposing. He seemed to not be moving, as his shadow was not shrinking nor growing, but he stood still with his arms about six inches from his body. I caught my breathe and propped myself up against the wall in the dark side of the alley, and kept my eye on the shadow.

I began to edge my way along the northern wall, hoping to find a side street to lead me away from the mysterious figure. I pushed myself about an inch away from the brick wall and slowly walked the other direction.

I gasped as my foot brushed against a tin can, making a slight tinkling sound, but was able to maintain my footing. I watched as the shadow cocked his head to the side as if listening for something, but it still did not move. I continued walking until my hand brushed against a small bent door handle. I looked down at it and gave it a slight tug, but it remained closed.

I ripped my eyes away from the shadow and focused all my work on the door handle. I gripped it in both hands, and turned it sharply downwards. With a dull cracking sound, the handle broke of the door. I swore under my breathe and pushed my weight against the metal obstacle and the lock mechanism, also rusted from months of misuse, broke, and the door swung open.

I reached for the handle to stop the door from swinging inward, but my hand felt nothing but air and I gasped as I realized the door no longer had a handle. The door, being pushed by the wind, slammed into the interior wall of the building. The loud clang that followed echoed through the entire street. The sound waves being bounced off all the structures around me.

I quickly looked back at the wall where the shadow was once projected, and froze. The shadow was gone. I took a swept my eyes around the street and rushed through the doorway in front of me. I slammed it shut behind me and jammed a piece of wood in front of it. Whoever had designed the doorway did so, so it could be opened from the inside, but remained locked from the outside. Along with the wood, I piled a handful of crates near the base, hoping they may keep them out.

I backed away from the door, and looked at my surroundings. Behind me was a dark staircase that went up to the hundreds of floors above. Below that was a small alcove where the stairs themselves went up against the wall. I crouched down and slipped into the alcove. I rolled out a tarp and curled up in it, striving for any warmth I could find. I stopped my efforts as I detected a noise on the edge of my hearing.

The rhythmic clicking came from just outside the door I lay ten feet from. I had heard the noise countless times in my life. Before all this happened, the subways were filled with the constant sound of footsteps. Most people didn't even notice them then, but those who were left knew to listen for them.

My blood froze at the realization of the sound, and I pushed myself farther into the corner under the stairs. I heard the footsteps getting closer to the door, and could see the shadow cast by the figure cast under the door. Whoever it was stood there for a moment, and I heard them snort. The figure bent to the side as if reaching for a door know, but upon not finding one, shifted his weight back onto both feet.

I sighed, knowing they would not be able to breach the door, and even started to close my eyes, when another sound shocked me. The figure outside rapped his fist against the cold metal outside. The sound reverberated throughout the entire room, and I could feel the sound of my heart beat mix with it. The figure raised his fist again and knocked on the door, as if he were a relative visiting for Christmas. The knocking sent two messages to me, one, "we know where you are", two, "we will get you".

I pulled my tarp over my head and covered my ears with it. The noise was muffled, but I could still feel the vibrations roll through me. With that I was able to fall into a fitful sleep of pain and nightmares.

* * *

I woke to the searing morning sun across my face. I woke instantly, and for a instance wondering if the door had been opened, allowing sunlight to spill through, but it had not. I followed the path of light and two flights above me saw a small window, about the size of a notebook. I stood up and rubbed my eyes, trying to eliminate all sleep from them. I picked up my tarp and carefully put it back in my pack, trying to prevent it from getting caught on my knife.

I hoisted the pack on my shoulder, wincing as I strained my injured arm. I stretched out the aching limb, making sure to prevent any movement in my wrist, and changed the bandages. I took another glance at my surroundings, trying to decide my next move. The world had become, in a sense, a series of failed or succeeded choices. The world had always been that way, be it through business ventures, or even what to eat, but in the new world, the consequences had become much more dire.

The way I saw it, I had two choices, the exit that I had blocked last night, or the mysterious stair case above me. It was day time, but the figure from last night was probably watching the exit. Leaving through the door way would be a risky move, with more negative consequences than positive.

Having come to a silent agreement I swung myself up onto the small landing of the staircase and silently crept up into the darkness. I knew the stairs may go on for a while, but the possibility of attack on the floors above were a lot less likely than that on the street. I only had to question what my motives were at this point. Since the incident that led to the situation I was currently in, I had no real direction or goal. There was a time, near the beginning, that I wanted only to leave the city, but that goal was long term. What I meant by having no goals, was no short term goals.

I knew long term goals were structured around smaller, short term ones. The short term ones would be easy to complete, such would include, finding food, transportation, or countless other helpful tasks. I knew at the moment those two were unnecessary. I had plenty of food at the moment, from a small dangerous excursion I had made into a school cafeteria, and the use of a car would get you nowhere in the packed streets.

Thus, I decided only to climb, as it was, in my mind, the best short term goal in this situation. I hoped other goals would come from this.

I sighed as I passed the eleventh floor seeing as there were still only office cubicles. The office was in a great state of disrepair, and most of the plaster walls separating the small square offices had fallen over. I climbed two more flights up, passing by another floor of offices, and a small rec room. On the fourteenth floor, however, were more cubicles, and a small fire escape. I pushed through the big metal door, that would have sounded a alarm if the power were still on, and walked out onto a small platform.

Someone had planted flowers across the railing in an attempt to make the dull gray building more appeasable, but due to months of misuse, planted nothing but weeds. I looked over the railing and saw the street many stories below. I though I made out a figure on the edge of my vision, but when I looked, whoever, or whatever it was was gone. I looked across the escape and saw a similar platform on the building across the street. The small ruined road below was only on lane, so the two escapes nearly touched. I grabbed onto the post on my side and jumped across, landing on my feet easily.

The building in front of me was a nicer apartment building. I had passed by it multiple times on the way to work, and had always wondered what it looked like inside. I jumped through a already opened window, stopping only for a moment to hold my aching arm, and looked around inside the structure. The carpet was a read color, and stretched all the way to the end of he building. Lined on each side were dark wooden doors, each etched with a small number.

I tried the first, but the door but the dead bolt was in place, so movement was impossible. I moved to my right, trying the next door but finding a similar situation. I moved away from the doors and moved cautiously down the center of the hallway. To my right was another hallway that led to another series of doors. This hallway was in much worst shape, the carpet had been torn up and all the light bulbs taken, so it was pitch black. In my time in the new world I had learned to fear the dark, but i could detect a glowing sign for the stairway, and I decided to risk it.

I pulled out my knife and crept slowly into the shadows, keeping my left arm against the wall, and my right gripped around my knife. I kept my ears open, and my eyes ever scanning. I could see the stairwell door approaching, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I sensed it coming before it happened. I always found it amazing how quickly the body can detect a threat. Before I could even turn, my body was aware of my coming danger. Using a combination of touch, sight, and smell, I was able to sense my surroundings. However, just because I was amazed at the strength and power of this early warning system, it did little in allowing me enough time to act. Thus the large blunt object swinging for my head, found it's mark.

* * *

I had a weird way of waking up. Before I opened my eyes, I would scan my surroundings and take a mental photo graph of the situation. In this case, I woke with a almost overpowering headache, a sharp pain behind my eyes. I could hear worried whispers across the room, but i couldn't make out the sex or age of the speakers. I began to worry, ideas of gangs, or killer, or even worse flashed through my mind. But they all went silent as I felt something around my chest. Tight chords were strung around me, and knew i was in a better situation than I had previously believed. Whoever had tied me here didn't want to kill me.

I cracked open an eye and glanced around. I could make out two figures, but the small amount of vision I had granted myself could distinguish very little. One of them swiveled their head in my direction, and I shut my eye quickly. I heard the footfalls of my attacker as he or she approached me, and I tried to put on my best sleeping face. I could tell this failed when the figure slapped me on the head.

"I know your awake!" Whoever it was said, I could tell she was female, and shorter as the voice came from about two inches above my head level, and I was sitting down. I opened my eyes in took in my surroundings.

I was seated in the center of a small but expensive family room. The carpet was a plush tan color and the sofa next to me looked pricy. Across from me was a kitchen with to metal chairs pushed up to a marble counter. Sulking in the corner next to the fridge was a small fox boy. He was a pale yellow color, and wore a army jacket. He gave me a glare and I looked away. Next to the kitchen was a small wooden door that matched the one in the hall I had been knocked out in. But the most dominating feature, by far, was the angry looking chick in front of me.

"Who are you, what do you want?" She yelled, hitting me again. I looked up at her and saw she was a hedgehog. She was close enough to me so that her pink bangs nearly touched my face. I stared at her curiously for a moment and she put her hand on her hip returning my look. I grinned and laughed.

"I was just passing by, when I was attacked." I replied. "So I think it's fair for me to ask you, who you are, and why you attacked me? She looked at me like I was insane and shook her head.

"Who we are doesn't matter, and to answer your question, we though you were one of those...things. She replied, strutting over to the fridge. I wondered why she kept anything in it, when the power was no longer running. She walked back to me and tipped some warm water in my mouth. I didn't even know how thirsty I was until the cold liquid dripped down my throat that the mass amount of dryness dissipated.

"Doesn't mean you had to hit me." I whined. I wanted to rub my head but my arms were constricted to my sides. Seeing my problem, the female loosened my bonds, and I was able to stand up. The fox directed his gaze towards me, and glared at me again, a look which I returned. The girl stepped between us and wagged her finger at me.

"So who are you guys?" I asked. I wasn't expecting much, probably the generic survivor speech.

"Well my name is Amy, and the fox is..." her voice trailed off and she cocked her head towards the door. The fox seemed to hear something also and turned his head. I walked closer to the door and listened very carefully. I though I could just make out a sound.

What I heard stopped me in my tracks. It was the same sound I had heard yesterday. A dull rhythmic clicking of of feet on the floor outside. I paled and I saw the fox press his ears down onto his head. There was no noise for a moment, but almost as a joke something began to knock against the door, the same thumping I had heard yesterday.

The girl crept forward and pulled out a handgun, and I reached into my pocket, but found no knife. I swiveled my head around and crept into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from a rack. The girl and the fox had positioned themselves on either side of the door and I walked towards them, knowing very well, that they may be the last people I ever saw.

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**So there you are!**

**Tell me how you guys feel! I don't know if I will continue this, but if you say I should I probably will!**

**Thanks!~**


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